


Ain't Nothing So Bad As A Bad Crush

by unusuallyeddie



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fluff and Angst, Gay, I figured he's be less happy go lucky without his suit and powers, I love him, M/M, Peter is a blessing, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, Wade is calmer than usual, as per usual, everything i write is gay, first work with this ship, he's still super wade-ish though, idk - Freeform, tattoo artist and florist, very talkative and crude, wade has a foul mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-13 01:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14739854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unusuallyeddie/pseuds/unusuallyeddie
Summary: Wade Wilson, trauma-wrought tattoo artist and all-around badass, is not the crush type. But when cute florist Peter Parker moves in across the street...Well.You know where this is going.





	Ain't Nothing So Bad As A Bad Crush

Look, Wade Wilson wasn’t the crush type, no matter what anyone said. He was a special forces veteran, covered in nasty burn scars, a schizophrenic, a morally grey douchebag, and ran a tattoo parlor for fucks sake. He didn’t get ‘crushes’.

But damn, that kid across the street in the florist shop was really starting to worm his way into Wade’s cold dead heart.

He was shorter than Wade, with soft-looking brown curls and big brown eyes. God, the kid looked to barely be over eighteen, which only made Wade feel like a pervert, but hey, he was probably legal.

Hopefully.

Admittedly, Wade had never spoken to the kid. He had no reason too. But god _ damn _ , he was too cute for his own good.

And Wade had never been able to resist the cute ones.

~   


The cute florist had set up shop across from Wade’s parlor a few weeks back. Wade had been watching from the window from the tattoo parlor, not having made any appointments that day. He was only watching to see what old bat thought it was a good idea to start a small flower shop in NYC when a frankly gorgeous kid who looked too young to own any sort of shop walked up to the moving truck and began chatting with the workers.

Wade was instantly smitten. 

His eyes followed the cute florist as he walked around to help unload flowers, until his eyes landed on-

_ Goddamn, that is the finest ass in New York City. _

For once, Wade had to agree with the annoying little voice. He still hit himself in the head to shut it up though, for the principle of the matter.

Besides, there was no point to ogling the cute florist, it wasn’t like he would ever go for a scarred freak like Wade.

_ He could like you for your charming personality. _

Wade snorted. Yeah, right.

~   


Wade watched the florist for a while before he made any move to greet him. Look, it wasn’t creepy. Wade was just scoping him out, making sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid within the first few days of moving to the big city.

Ok, maybe it was little bit creepy.

Moving on.

It took his coworker Logan catching him watching the florist to convince Wade to actually talk to him, in a conversation that went a little something like this;

“You starin’ out the window again?”   


“No.”   


“I can see you, dumbass.”   


“I’m just...watching the clouds.”   


“Really? You’re not stalkin’ that florist again?”   


“Fuck off, Logan.”   


“If you don’t talk to him, I will.”   


Here, Wade whirled around, putting a hand to his heart in mock despair. “Logan! You told me you weren’t gay!”   


Logan rolled his eyes. “Not for me dipshit, don’t act like an idiot. I’ll just tell him my lunatic coworker has been starin’ at his ass through the window for the past five weeks.”   


“It’s been six.” Wade said sullenly, dropping the act.   


Logan just raised an eyebrow. “Go.”   


~   


So here Wade was, walking across the street, head down and hood pulled up to avoid the stares of people on the street.

What the hell was he even supposed to say? He couldn’t get flowers, Logan would kill him. So what the hell was the point of visiting the florist?   


_ To tell him what a cute little bubble butt he has, then politely ask if we can spank it. _

Wade shook his head, as though to physically get rid of the voice. It didn’t work.

_ OH! Or we could ask to fuck it! If we say ‘please’ there’s a good chance he’ll say yes! _ _   
_

Really?   


_ No. Have you looked in a mirror recently? _ _   
_

Wade sighed. Nothing quite like being insulted by the voices in your own head.

His thoughts were abruptly cut off as he reached the door to the small florist shop. He took a moment to peer inside, not seeing anyone, yet the sign on the door said ‘open’. 

So, he took a deep breath and went inside. 

Wade looked around for a second. The shop was well-lit and neat, as opposed to Wade’s messy and somewhat dark parlor. There were flowers everywhere, which he expected, but not to this extent. Even the ground was littered with petals and stems.

“I’ll be with you in a minute!” A voice called from the back of the shop, and Wade jolted. Damn, the kid even sounded underage. He was beginning to think this was a bad plan.

Before he could make up his mind to leave, the kid ran out from the back, propping himself up on the counter and beaming brightly. “Hi! I’m Peter, welcome to Peter’s Petals. Cheesy name, I know, my aunt came up with it. How can I help you?” The kid rambled, fidgeting with his apron.

As always, Wade’s mouth was open before his brain could tell him to stop. “ _ Dayum _ Petey, you do not look old enough to be running this place by yourself. How old are you, eighteen?”   


Peter’s eyes narrowed. “I’m twenty-two.” He said flatly.

_ Nice going bozo, you ticked him off already! _

Wade winced. “Er, sorry, I don’t think about what I say. Let’s start over, yeah? Hi Peter, I’m Wade, nice to meet ya, I like your shop, very...flowery. It’s cute.” He said all in one breath.

Peter blinked, looking a lot less irritated than he had a moment before. “Uh, thanks?” He said, well, asked more like. “So, what are you here for?”   


Wade shrugged. “I work across the street, noticed you were new, thought I’d come over and introduce the wonder that is myself.” He looked up with a grin, giving the kid an eyeful of his heavily scarred face and inwardly wondering how he would react.

Peter, to his credit, didn’t even blink. “Oh, you’re the tattoo artist!”   


Wade raised both eyebrows at the lack of a reaction to his face. “Um, yeah. I’m sorry, but you’re not gonna scream? Flinch? Anything?” I mean, damn, the lack of a reaction was starting to freak him out.

Peter tilted his head to the side like a puppy. “Why would I do any of that?”   


Wade gestured to his face, deadpan.

Peter’s brows furrowed together. “Do people usually react like that?”   


“Well, yeah.” Wade said warily.    


“Kinda rude, isn’t it?” Peter continued, as if Wade wasn’t staring at him like he just grew a second head. “I mean, you’ve obviously been through some shit. They shouldn’t make you feel worse about it.”   


Wade blinked. “Uh, thanks, I guess.”   


“Anytime!” Peter said cheerily, getting to work arranging some flowers in a brightly colored bouquet. “If you’re not too busy, do you wanna hang around for a while? I could use the company.”   


“I could give you a lot more than company.” Wade replied instantly, leering. He then abruptly face-palmed. 

_ Why are you like this? _

However, instead of getting pissy or kicking him out, Peter snorted and kept arranging his flowers. “I’m not that kinda girl, Mr. Tattoo-Artist. At least buy me dinner first.”   


Wade let a grin spread across his face.

Oh, he  _ liked  _ this kid.

~   


Wade and Peter chatted for what felt like hours but in reality was probably only half an hour, Wade making several not-thought-out comments about Peter’s ass and Peter rolling his eyes each time, until Wade’s phone started ringing with the cheery tune of  _ Baby Got Back _ , his ringtone for Logan. He picked up.

“Hewwo?” He said into the phone, putting on a baby voice to piss off his friend and coworker. Peter snickered from next to him.

Logan sighed irritably. “You’re not cute, Wilson. Get back here, you have a client.”   


“Oh, a client! I love those!” Wade gushed. “Be there in a jiffy!” He hung up, turning back to Peter with an apologetic smile. “Sorry sweet cheeks, but I gotta skedaddle.”   


“Go do your job, and don’t call me sweet cheeks.” Peter replied, trying to hide a smile. 

Wade smirked, heading towards the door. “You got it, bubblebutt!”

He whistled to himself as he headed back to the parlor, happy enough that he could ignore the stares he was getting. Petey was cute  _ and  _ sassy, a combo Wade had always been weak for.

This was gonna be so much fun.

~   


There was something fascinating about inking someone up.

The buzz of the needle, the knowledge that they trusted you not to fuck it up, the fact that your artwork was permanently etched onto someone's skin.

It was weirdly exhilarating in the same way being in the special forces was.

Wade tried not to think about how crazy that comparison made him seem.

At the moment, he was doing a series of flora and fauna on some hipster chicks arm, chatting nonsensically the whole time.

“And that’s why Big Bird gave me nightmares for a week.” He said as he finished the last flower of the tattoo, trying to ignore how similar the flowers looked to the ones in Peters shop. “And you are good to go, that’ll be $250, pay the hairy guy at the front desk.”   


The girl shot him a quick thank you before leaving, obviously happy to get away from Wade’s non stop talking. Most customers were, they only came in because he’d developed a rep as the best tattoo artist in NYC.

Wade sat back, happy to relax in the quiet.

_ Jesus fuck, thank god that chick is gone. She clearly hated us, buddy. _

Wade sighed. There went his quiet.

_ No seriously, and she was a hipster to boot! We hate hipsters! So pretentious… _

Wade whacked himself in the head with the hand not holding the ink needle as Logan walked in, shooting him the closest to a sympathetic face that Logan could make.    


“They’re talking again?”   


“They never stop!” Wade said, trying his best to sound cheerful instead of irritated, a large grin on his face.

Logan shook his head. “I’m telling you man, the right help could do you wonders.”   


“I’m a therapists playground, Logan.” Wade scoffed, suddenly too tired to put up his usual false attitude. “There’s not a chance in hell I’m letting some dumbass with a PhD poke around the inside of my head.”   


“Just sayin’, there’s a reason they have that PhD.” Logan said, voice marginally less gruff than usual. “You oughta give it a chance.”   


“Nope!” Wade said. “Not happening.”   


Logan raised his hands in surrender. “Whatever, I tried. Anyway, I came in here to tell you that it’s almost time to close up, if you wanna start packin’ up.”

Wade looked at the clock and sighed. It was almost midnight, their closing time. Time to go home and stare aimlessly at the ceiling while his voices commented on every part of his day.

Logan watched him carefully. “Just sayin’, for the five hundredth time, my guest room is always open.”   


“Nah, I don’t want you getting sick of me just yet.” Wade said bluntly. “Besides, they’ll just get pissy if I mess up their routine.”   


Logan just shrugged and left Wade to clean up his half of the parlor.

Wade stood up, cracking his back, wondering aimlessly if he should actually take Logan up on his offer of moving into that guest room.

_ Nah, who would actually want to put up with you for that long? He’s just being nice, you know better than that. _

Wade groaned to himself. Yeah, the voice was probably right.

~   


Later that night found Wade staring at a crack in his ceiling, thinking about his interactions earlier with Peter.

The florist didn’t seem to dislike him. In fact, he seemed to genuinely enjoy their conversation. Which was weird as all hell, considering Wade-ugly, scarred, broken Wade-had been hitting on him the whole time.

But Peter didn’t seem to mind. No, he was blushing for most of it, but he was also smiling, and laughing, and making sarcastic remarks that threw Wade for a loop in response.

Still, there was still that nasty little voice is Wade’s head whispering  _ he’d never like a freak like you. _

And it was probably true. Yes, Peter saw his scars. But he didn't know about the voices, about how many people Wade had killed, about anything. And Wade had no doubt that Peter would stop talking to him as soon as he found out.

Wade sighed, and rolled over. May as well try to get some sleep instead.

~   


He ended up not sleeping that night. That was normal, however, between the flashbacks and the voices he generally didn’t get much sleep.

The second he walked into the tattoo parlor, Logan stopped him, one thick eyebrow raised. “Again?” He asked, already aware of Wade’s sleeping habits.

Wade just nodded. It was better if he didn’t explain.

Logan let him get to work after that, drowning himself in sketches and music, letting the loud classic rock drown out the voice still whispering in his ear.

~   


It was a while before Wade saw Peter again. Mostly out of avoidance and self-loathing. He didn’t want to bug the poor florist any more than he already had.

But weirdly enough, after about two weeks, Logan poked his head into Wade’s ‘office’ with a gruff, “That florist is here to see you.”   


Confused, Wade walked out into the lobby of their little parlor to see Peter, wrapped up in a too-big green apron with a nervous expression on his face. However, the nervousness dissolved into a smile when he saw Wade.

Seriously? He made the kid smile?   


Wade smiled back, albeit slowly. “Hey, bubblebutt.” He said cheerily, ignoring Logan rolling his eyes next to him. “What brings you to my humble abode?”

Peter laughed, nerves clear in his voice. “Well, it’s kinda stupid, actually, but um...can I talk to you? Alone?”   


Wade nodded, shooing Logan from the room, ignoring how the tension only seemed to thicken.

_ Here it is, he’s gonna confess he hates you. $10 says he wants a restraining order. _

Wade restrained himself from saying ‘shut up’ out loud, but just barely. It took him a second to realize Peter had continued speaking.

“Like I said, it’s stupid, like, really stupid, but ever since you visited me I’ve been thinking, and um, you’re really nice. And funny. And easy to talk to.” Peter babbled, face getting redder and redder. God, he was so cute. “So I was wondering, if you weren’t busy, maybe we could grab dinner Friday night? No strings attached, just two dudes, hanging out, having dinner.” He shut up abruptly, blushing hard.

Wade grinned. “Why, are you asking me on a date?” He said in falsetto, batting his eyelashes.

Peter rolled his eyes, but smiled hopefully. “Is that a yes?”

_ He won’t last. None of the others did. He’s gonna find out what you are, and he’s gonna go running for the hills. You should just say no, and save yourself the heartbreak. _

Well…

_ Say no. _

But Peter was really cute, and could it be worth it?   


_ Say no. _

“Yes.” Wade answered, ignoring the loud screaming of obscenities in his head.

Peter’s answering smile made it all seem worth it.

~   


Friday came both far too quickly and far too slowly.

Wade dressed somewhat nicely-his only not ripped jeans and a button up. He wasn’t exactly sure where they were going, Peter refused to tell him, even though they had been texting on and off for the past few days.

He glanced at the clock. Peter had told him to be ready by seven, and it was nearing six forty-five. 

So, he waited.

It was almost seven when that annoying ass little voice decide to speak up. 

_ He’s not gonna show up, ya know. Why would he? We have nothing to offer, except Mexican food and shitty jokes. Him asking you out? It was just a joke. _

Just as Wade was about to cave and change back into his pajamas, his doorbell rang.

He grinned as he went towards the door, inwardly telling the voice to suck a dick, and opened to reveal Peter dressed similarly to him.

_ Well I’ll be damned, the kid is fuckin’ gorgeous. _

Yeah, you’re telling me, Wade thought back. “Hey.” He said casually. “You gonna tell me where we’re going now?” He inwardly prepared himself for the anxiety of being outside the parlor or his apartment, and the stares that came with.

“Well…” Peter said, somewhat nervously. “I remember you saying at one point that you don’t like the attention that comes from your scars and all, so I figured we could just order something? Hang out here or at my place? If you want?”

Wade’s grin grew despite his attempt at remaining chill. “Baby boy, that sounds perfect.”

Peter smiled back, before raising a sassy eyebrow. “Baby boy? You better not be expecting me to call you Daddy.”   


“Oh, you will.” Wade leered, getting a laugh in response.

And so they ordered a pizza, cracking jokes and making crude comments for the next half hour before it arrived.

When it did arrive, Peter paid before Wade could, insisting that “I asked you out, so I should pay. You can pay next time.”   


“Next time?” Wade grinned, ignoring the heavy feeling in his chest at prolonging the inevitable break-up.

Peter smiled shyly back. “Yeah, next time.” He then bit into a piece of pizza, moaning pornographically as he did so.

Wade crossed his legs. 

Peter noticed, smirking, but didn’t comment, something Wade was grateful for as he had no idea what he would say in response.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, but not an awkward silence. No, it was a comfortable silence, like that of which you would have with an old friend.

_ Don’t get too comfortable, now. You know he’s gonna leave you soon. _

Wade grimaced at the reminder, and Peter took notice.

“What's wrong?” He asked, eyebrows knit together in concern. 

“Nothing.” Wade lied easily. “Just burnt my tongue a bit.”   


Peter looked down at his own paper plate. “Really? My slice was a bit cold…” He turned back to Wade with a dubious expression. “You can tell me, you know.”   


“It’s nothing, really.” Wade insisted. 

Peter’s frown deepened, but he said nothing else on the matter.

_ He’s too good for you. _

Shut up.

_ He deserves someone better. _

Shut up.

_ He’s gonna leave you, just like everyone else did. _ _   
_

“Shut up.” Wade said aloud reflexively, causing Peter to look at him like he was crazy.

“Dude, I didn’t say anything.”   


“Not you.” Wade said distractedly, before freezing. Great, if Peter wasn’t curious already, he sure as hell would be now.

Sure enough, Peter glanced around before his eyes fell back onto Wade. “There’s no one else here, Wade.” He said gently.

Wade groaned. “You’re not gonna drop this, are you?”   


Peter shook his head. “I want to know what’s bothering you. I want to help.” Wade searched his expression for deceit, only to find none.

“I have voices in my head.” He said bluntly.

Peter’s eyes widened.

_ Nice going dipshit, now he’s really gonna run. _

“I’ve had them ever since I got out of the special forces.” Wade continued, Now that he started, he couldn’t stop if he tried. “I was sick, alone, and desperate. I was covered in these fucking hideous scars from getting caught in an explosion from a grenade that I threw. So my mind decided fuck it, may as well make everything worse, and I developed these shitty little voices. They constantly remind me what a huge fuck-up I am, how I don’t the good things happening to me, how everything is gonna go back to hell, just you wait. And the worst part?” Wade laughed, humorless. “They’re right. They always are.” He turned to fully face Peter, an ugly expression on his marred features. “So go ahead. Tell  me I’m a freak. Call me a psycho. It’s nothing I don’t hear everyday.”   


Peter was frozen. Wade didn't blame him. It was a lot to take in. What Wade didn’t expect, however, was the sudden warmth on his lap and the arms around his shoulders as Peter tackled him in a hug.

_ He’s pitying you. Push him off. Hurt him. Make him leave. _

Before Wade could do anything in regards to the voice, he registered a new voice, talking right in his ear.

Peter.

“You’re not a fuck up. You're not hideous. You’re not a freak, or a psycho.” Peter was whispering firmly, rubbing careful circles into the skin of Wade’s shoulder. “You’re a good man bad things have happened to.”   


Wade blinked. “You’re not running.”   


Peter laughed, but it was a sad sort of laugh, not the happy one he was doing earlier. “I’m not gonna run, Wade.”   


Maybe it was the first hug he’s had in years, maybe it was the reassurance. All Wade knew was he was choking back tears, clinging to Peter like a lifeline, pressing desperate kisses into brown hair.

“You deserve so much better.” Wade whispered brokenly after a while of this.

Peter pulled back, fixing him with a serious look. “No. You, Wade Wilson, deserve better. And I’m determined to give it to you.” And with that, he kissed him.

And for the first time in years, Wade’s head was filled with a glorious silence.

**Author's Note:**

> It's not my best, but I enjoyed writing this. I'm admittedly not proud of how I wrote Wade, but he's a difficult character, so I'm ok with how I did. Thanks if you made it this far, lmao.


End file.
